


Suddenly Last Summer

by Megalohdon



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: (Except they're dating and Viktor is just constantly overwhelmed with love), Alternate Universe - College/University, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Body Worship, Bottom Katsuki Yuuri, Fluff and Smut, Low key but it's always there, M/M, Pining Victor Nikiforov, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Praise Kink, Riding, Sensuality, Silly, Top Victor Nikiforov, Topping from the Bottom, Viktor's a victim of Miami fashion, lovemaking, vaguely anyway
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-10
Updated: 2017-09-10
Packaged: 2018-12-26 00:53:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12047910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Megalohdon/pseuds/Megalohdon
Summary: There was a lot to love in the small space in the world Miami took up, but Viktor thinks his favorite part was the endless awe in Yuuri’s eyes once the sun dipped beneath the waves on the horizon and the neon lights South Florida had to offer finally came into view.“The lights remind me of Tokyo at night,” Yuuri had said, one hand in the pocket of the jacket of Viktor’s that he was wearing, the other in the right back pocket of Viktor’s pants.“Is that a good thing?”“Yeah,” Yuuri breathed, gaze lingering on a motel sign across from the beach before moving to glaze over Viktor’s features, “I like feeling like I’m at home when I’m with you no matter where we are.”





	Suddenly Last Summer

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to The Motels for the title. Super fitting on two levels.

Viktor swears he found love on a redeye flight to Miami in the middle of July.

                It was eleven months after he’d found love the first time, hidden away in the corner of Great Lakes coffee on the Monday classes started. Love was a man four years his junior, a crown of black hair on top of his head the color of a fine ink sticking up four different ways in an effort to stand out. Love took his heart in one glance, held it there in a vice grip as the breath he held escaped his lungs. Love was anxious, quiet when addressed but polite all the same. Love was oversized sweaters and striped button-ups, lightly washed jeans that were rolled up to his ankles and a pair of blue framed glasses that emphasized his cinnamon eyes.

                October rolled around before love had a name, and Viktor found himself whispering _Yuuri Katsuki_ like a prayer to himself as he fell asleep at night.

                Yuuri said yes to a date outside of 7/11 in November, Viktor’s red and white jacket hanging from his shoulders and a blue-raspberry slush in hand. Viktor had told him it’d be casual, just a small thing between them. No crowds or parties, nothing to drive them apart socially when they finally, _finally_ had this opportunity. It wasn’t something he expected a yes to, had spent the greater half of that morning telling himself it was okay to be rejected. _It happens to everyone. It's fine, no big deal. Pick yourself up and dust off and try again._ Yuuri had told him three months later there was never a moment in his life since they met that he ever considered telling Viktor no.

                They became a couple just after the New Year, spent the holidays together and celebrated Viktor’s twenty-fourth birthday. He switched majors too many times, held his future back on his own but pushed through and found success on his own time table. He was slated to graduate in May, long overdue and eagerly awaited on his part. Yuuri still had two years, had enough credits at the moment to possibly shave off one of those, but Viktor promised him patience under the stars during a midnight picnic one Wednesday night.

                It was a Thursday afternoon in April when they made love for the first time, wrapped up in the serenity of Viktor’s sheets in his apartment after Yuuri’s exams were out of the way. It was a slow, sensual thing; a moment in history forever marked by the drag of Viktor’s lips along Yuuri’s throat and the way he dipped his fingers against the curve of Yuuri’s pelvis _just_ so. It was the second time Viktor fell for Yuuri Katsuki, a foreign name on his tongue and a sudden heat against his nerves.

                Heaven was the space between Yuuri’s legs, the small world that he held in his arms and Viktor’s chest. Chris had called him poetic, hopeless, lost in the throes of his own diluted passion but they’d eventually wear down. It _always_ wore down. Viktor’s past was dotted with patterns and escapes, casual flings and flirty glances but never something serious. Nothing ever like what Yuuri offered him. It was a new sensation, raw and heady on his heart, but satisfying.

                He had asked Yuuri to move in three days later, made a spot in his home for the man who held his heart and entrusted the security of his love in someone who hung the stars in his sky. The first thing Yuuri did was buy two matching mugs, one blue and one purple, with two tiny studded tux designs on them. He had told Viktor it was symbolic, representative of their love and partnership, but it was always, _always_ more than that to Viktor. It was commitment.

                Those mugs were Yuuri’s love.

                Miami was a sudden trip, spur of the moment and prompted by Yuuri two drinks down and a plethora of school year regrets under his belt that needed to be forgotten. It was easy to move with the current of Yuuri’s waters, follow along as the tide brought them to the shores of hasty decisions and inevitable mistakes. Viktor wasn’t ever one to say no, having his own personal tendencies to fly off the cusp and act irrationally when he saw fit.

                Flying out to Miami was the _best_ idea they’d had all week.

                So Viktor packed their bags for the weekend and Yuuri booked their flights and hotel. Viktor swayed with Yuuri in their living room, bare feet leaving trails of patterned movements on the carpet as they danced to the sound of their laughter alone. Viktor pressed a kiss to Yuuri’s temple, let his left-hand splay flat across the curve of his boyfriend’s spine as they rocked together, and he memorized the way Yuuri felt pressed up close to him; the way their bodies accommodated and welcomed each other so openly.

                That was the third time he fell in love.

                They landed at six AM, two cups of coffee downed each and a renewed vigor in their spontaneous vacation working alone to get them to their hotel on Biscayne. Yuuri had told Viktor about the retro chic look of The Vagabond, booked them three nights in the Catalina King, and never looked back from his first choice; newly refurbished with all the original charm. Viktor liked the off the pool bar, but Yuuri stared lovingly at the bright purple and pink neon lights that greeted them when they pulled up to the curb.

                “This is the one.”

                And it _was_ the one, quaint and homely in a way that settled their rattled nerves when they got to their room. Yuuri first commented on the wallpaper, the black lined suitcases ‘beckoned him’ when he was looking at photos the night before. Viktor was drawn to the bed, a large king on cone shaped legs, a swooping headboard stuck out above all in that reminiscent way that reminded him of a time in America he never got to live through. Regardless of everything the room offered, the one thing that called to Viktor was just how _Yuuri_ this whole place was.

                Homely, comforting, and undeniably old fashioned in certain aspects of its standing.

                Viktor’s heart grew.

                They christen the bed first with a nap, mismatched sleepwear adorning their frames as they curled together under the snow-white linens while the sun crept up through the blinds. It was seven AM, too early to function and the perfect time to be irresponsible in an unfamiliar city. Viktor wasn’t sure he needed a reason, didn’t think Yuuri would care how they spent their vacation as long as it was together, and he found himself conceding to that.

                Regardless of what time they woke up, the world would keep moving, the life outside the four white walls of their motel room would continue to bustle well into the Miami night, and it was hard for Viktor to reason against living in the moment. Spontaneity kept him young and willful; Yuuri had adapted to Viktor’s whimsy just three months into their relationship as a whole and embraced the thrill of the seizing the day.

                At four Yuuri woke him with a kiss, feather light and fleeting against his chapped and desperate pair. It roused him, had him tossing the blankets off his body as his boyfriend slipped beyond the door of the bathroom. Viktor fancied himself an expert in the language that was Yuuri Katsuki’s body, could recite words of praise and adoration with a touch of his lips to the dip of Yuuri’s spine and two hands held steadfast at the other’s hips. It was the best communication Viktor knew, the one he prided himself the most in even as a linguistics major. Speaking the language of love in the black and white tiled shower of a motel out of its time would always, _always_ etch itself into the folds of Viktor’s life.

                Yuuri slipped on a familiar red and white jacket when Viktor told him there’s a diner two blocks away he wants to visit. It’s the Miami feeling, that old retro setting and a casual party vibe that thrummed beneath the streets. Yuuri commented that he’d never been to a diner, and that was a shame considering how long he’d lived in Detroit, but this was _perfect._ It was two greasy burgers and a plate of hot fries, ketchup on the corners of their mouths and laughter in their lungs. It was serendipitous, watching Yuuri pick off the lettuce from his burger and inspect each fry for any brown spots. He was meticulous with his food, picky when he could afford to be, and with one bite left of his own meal, Viktor wonders if there was ever a time in their lives that he _wouldn’t_ be learning something new.

                Viktor’s not sure there’s anything Yuuri could do that he wouldn’t love him endlessly for.

                They come stumbling back into the room at midnight, Viktor’s hands cradling Yuuri’s face with the gentle, guiding strength he always had, and Yuuri’s own had found solace resting on the globes of Viktor’s ass. They’d spent the day destination hopping, taking a couple hours of their afternoon to enjoy the fabled Miami Beach before touting themselves down the strip after eight. There was a lot to love in the small space in the world Miami took up, but Viktor thinks his favorite part was the endless awe in Yuuri’s eyes once the sun dipped beneath the waves on the horizon and the neon lights South Florida had to offer finally came into view.

                “The lights remind me of Tokyo at night,” Yuuri had said, one hand in the pocket of the jacket of Viktor’s that he was wearing, the other in the right back pocket of Viktor’s pants.

                “Is that a good thing?”

                “Yeah,” Yuuri breathed, gaze lingering on a motel sign across from the beach before moving to glaze over Viktor’s features, “I like feeling like I’m at home when I’m with you no matter where we are.”

                It was easy to find a home in the places Yuuri occupied. Home is where the heart is was an idiom that stuck with him, resonated down to his core and shook the reality that he lived in. Yuuri had a special hold on Viktor’s heart, the source of his life and every ounce of his love. Sometimes, when the sun crept up through the blinds in their bedroom back in Detroit, Viktor would take Yuuri’s hand from off his chest, thread their fingers together and revel in the way it felt to share such tender intimacy with the man he loved before seven AM.

                Yuuri circled Viktor back into the present, kicked the door shut behind them before pressing their bodies closer. The heat was a low burn beneath his fingertips, a trail of fire and passion left with each brush of his hands against Yuuri’s exposed flesh. It was a feeling that left them swaying, rocking together in the darkness of their hotel room, lit only by the neon fluorescents from outside their window. It was intimate, quiet, an unspoken melody between them that kept them moving in time.

                Viktor doesn’t want to bother with the lights, preferring the way Yuuri looks swathed in purples and pinks in their Miami haven like the sculpted work of art that he was. The tones dipped along the lines of his face, curled around the muscles of his bare biceps as Viktor slipped his fingers under the sleeves of his jacket to push it off Yuuri’s shoulders. Yuuri looked good in any lighting, especially in yellows and blues, but the cool tones of the Vice night beyond the threshold of their room was an indescribable sort of intimate beauty Viktor could never recreate.

                The image of Yuuri bathed in the moonlight and neon glow of Miami would stay with him.

                For a moment, just briefly, he felt Yuuri’s wandering gave flit over his still covered torso. He could feel the bare level scrutiny in his eyes, _saw_ the way his nose wrinkled in mild disgust before he was reaching out and undoing the buttons on his shirt one by one. Viktor’s fingers played at the hem of Yuuri’s blue tank, dipped under the cotton of his top before the pressed gentle lines into his hips. He felt the vibrations of Yuuri’s pleased hum against his shoulder, reveled in the needy way he rocked back and forth underneath Viktor’s touch in a quiet way of asking for more. It was always like this; always assumed, always given. Yuuri asked with soft kisses and low rolls of his hips, and Viktor was intuitive enough and keyed into his lover’s body language to the point he could always respond in kind.  

                In the bedroom Viktor had a tendency to let Yuuri take charge, citing himself simply as a passenger aboard life and his boyfriend was the only captain he could trust. It was always something that seemed to make Yuuri preen when the Russian spoke of it, a puff of his chest in pride and a small smirk on his lips telling Viktor it wasn’t only simple praises that had him keening under the right tones. It wasn’t any different in this moment, not with how Yuuri let his hands roam over the newly exposed flesh of Viktor’s pale abdomen. There was a glimmer of admiration in his eyes, illuminated by the quiet nightlife outside, and the older man shifted under the weight of Yuuri’s heavy gaze, tugged at the bottom of the blue tank with mild insistence before being thrown a look of condescension.

                “You look awfully impatient,” Yuuri had said, the lilt in his voice and quirk of his lips unmistakable even in the darkness of their room.

                “In my defense, you started kissing me at the bottom of the stairs and grabbed my ass as soon as I opened the door, I think I’m _naturally_ impatient.”

                He gets a thoughtful hum in return at that, sees the way the cogs in Yuuri’s head turn over comment ideas he could make before he settles and tugs again at the now separated sides of Viktor’s shirt, “Considering I let you wear this _god awful_ shirt in public all day, I think it’s fair that I get to make the pace tonight.”

                Viktor fronts his real lack of a retort with feigned hurt, slipping a hand from Yuuri’s waist to press dramatically over his heart with an exaggerated gasp. “How _dare_ you. I’ll have you know you watched me buy this before lunch, _and_ you let me wear it. The shop owner said it was very Miami, Yuuri, I wanted to fit in with the crowd.”

                “You didn’t need a sea foam green bowling shirt covered in flamingos to achieve that, Viktor.” There’s a light, airy chuckle that Yuuri let out before he pressed a soft, apologetic kiss to the corner of Viktor’s mouth. It wasn’t necessary, the joke itself told louder by Yuuri’s tone rather than the action of apology, but Viktor made to shrug out of the shirt regardless, cupped Yuuri’s face between his hands again and sealed their lips together like they were meant to be.

                He found that Yuuri liked that, Viktor taking charge and leading them down the path of pleasure. It made his hands tremble against the front of Viktor’s pants, fingers struggling to find purchase against the waistband of the salmon shorts he wore out for the day. There wasn’t ever a moment in their time together that they progressed without permission, and even with pleasured tremors raking through his upper body Yuuri would still hesitate before Viktor gave him the go ahead. It was granted with a roll of his hips, upwards into Yuuri’s palm in that insistent way he always moved. For just a moment he could feel his lover’s breath shudder against his neck, watched with curious eyes as Yuuri shifted and made to undo the button and zipper on Viktor’s front.

                As a couple they had habits, ways of undoing the nerves in each other’s bodies with just quick glances and well-placed hands. Viktor moved back enough to hold Yuuri’s gaze, bottom lip caught between his teeth as he pushed both of his middle and ring fingers beneath the waistbands of his shorts and boxers. He didn’t move, didn’t adjust his hands or rock his hips any, just held the stare Yuuri provided him before the other broke contact and let his gaze travel down. He could call it a show, a silent question of ‘is this what you want’ that he always presented Yuuri.

                It was, in turn, answered with a faint smile and a nervous twitch of Yuuri’s fingers at buttons of his own shorts. It was an undeniable _want_ that weighed heavy between them, the way that Viktor teased his nudity. He was already growing stiff beneath the layers, arousal pooling in his gut in the aftershock of Yuuri’s lips against his just minutes before. They always unwound each other, took apart their insecurities and built their partner back together stronger and more stable than before. It was addicting, the way they moved together; a buzz in the back of Viktor’s mind called out to him, pleaded, craved for more than what it was offered.

                Always, indefinitely, he wanted Yuuri in every way he could. Viktor craved the way he could take him apart, watched his spine arch off the mattress and his toes curl into the sheets as Viktor made for Yuuri’s core. It was _everything_ to him, to see the way Yuuri’s face melted into pleasure, and he remembered the feel of nails against the flesh of his back, the slide of Yuuri’s stomach against his when they rocked together slowly, and it was pure poetry the way they moved in rhythm.

                Viktor could write a novel on the nuances of making love to Yuuri Katsuki.

                His comfort levels spike in the silence they shared in their small room, driving him to finally give Yuuri what he craved by pushing the rest of his clothes off of his body. It earns him a whistle, low and approving like Yuuri always gave him, and he settled on the corner of the bed with an expectant stare falling on his lover’s fully clothed form that stood stock still by the front door.

                “Would you like help?”

                Usually not, Yuuri never said yes when Viktor asked, but there was that shift in his tone that had two chocolate eyes peering down over his own form before he stepped into the space Viktor made between his legs. More silent approval, another quiet moment of victory between them, and it’s hard for Viktor not to take note of the way his boyfriend shivers under his heavy gaze and cold fingers. He could tease Yuuri, could drag this out like he wanted to, leave a wet line of kisses from the other’s pelvis up to his chest as he worked the tank off of him. He _could_ slide his hands around Yuuri’s torso when the soft cotton falls down to the floor in the pile of fabrics he’s already created, cradle his lover close and move his hands down to cup Yuuri’s ass firmly.

                He _could_ nip at Yuuri’s navel, bite his way gently to the fly on the other’s pants and hold tighter onto his backside while Viktor works the zipper down.

                So he did.

The button requires hands, deft fingers and a level of patience Yuuri didn’t have anymore, so Viktor would take care of it. He’d take care of everything, guide Yuuri into ecstasy if that was what he wanted. He’d take him in hand, in mouth, pull Yuuri close and memorize the patterns of his breathing as Viktor worked him down to his bones and pulled him apart with trained fingers and quiet praises. Yuuri _loved_ praise.

                Yuuri had carefully built Viktor’s world with the soft flutter of his lashes and the hiccupping, all-encompassing laughter that filled the empty spaces in their lives. He was the foundation of happiness, the steel beams that took Viktor to the sky, brought him out on top and sheltered him from the merciless thrashing of the wind during tiring storms. The café back home was responsible for getting them here, tangled up in a web of love and affection underneath the crisp sheets of a motel they’d never return to. Viktor owes everything to fate, places his beliefs in the reality that he and Yuuri were destined lovers, universal parallels in a world full of chaos. He hesitated to call them soul mates, never wanted to downplay the amount of love he had for Yuuri as a mere storytelling trope, but he knew.

                Down in the very depths of his soul, he felt whole, completed when Yuuri slated their lips together and took Viktor’s hands in his own. There was a slight shift in Yuuri’s movements, a gentle sway of his hips as he made to rock his pants off his frame, let his legs step out and placed them on either side of Viktor, now boxer clad and free of any previous inhibitions he had. Kissing Viktor had always been a surefire way of settling any of his nerves, Yuuri had told him that mid kiss the first time they had slept together. He remembered every shared breath, every quiet moan pressed into the nape of his neck, the way Yuuri breathed his name when Viktor finally, _finally_ sunk into him.

                Viktor takes the opportunity to pull Yuuri down closer, settle his hands on his boyfriend’s hips and let his erection slide against the fabric of Yuuri’s underwear. It was friction, sweet and perfect, but still not _enough_. Never enough, not with Yuuri in his lap, hips sashaying side to side with that teasing edge Viktor _loved._ It made him ache, had his nerves on fire as his fingers dipped beneath the waistband of Yuuri’s boxers to find purchase on the smooth flesh of his ass.

                “Make me feel good, Vitya,” Yuuri pleaded, hips rocking forward to press his own half hard erection against Viktor’s stomach. He wouldn’t have gone so far as to call it a command, never with the tone of Yuuri’s voice and the minute hesitation in his movements as he shifted off Viktor’s lap to stand again.

                “I want to forget myself tonight. I want your hands on my hips, I want your eyes on me, and I really, really,” he paused, moving to slip off the last article of clothing that kept his modesty at bay from his body, took advantage of Viktor’s new position at the headboard to crawl across the white linens with a heavy gaze and parted lips, “want to ride you.”

                Ascension felt like a far off concept, something that came to one after death claimed their soul, but Viktor feels the breath leave his lungs and color spread across the bridge of his nose to the tips of his ears with Yuuri’s finished comment and he thinks he must have gone to heaven regardless. He can’t muster a response, just nods and resituates himself on the bed as Yuuri positions himself in Viktor’s lap.

                Viktor curls his fingers into the meat of Yuuri’s thighs to fight off the urge he has to flip them over and give Yuuri everything he wanted, to stake claim to Yuuri’s skin in that possessive way he always does. He wants to listen to Yuuri pant into the pillow, feel his fingers pull hard at silver tresses, _watch_ as Yuuri unravels under the weight of Viktor’s mouth on his skin. It was an intimate process, opening up his lover, and watching the way they melted into one struck a chord in Viktor’s soul.

                “Whatever you want, luchik,” he sighed, face pressed into the soft flesh of Yuuri’s stomach before he shifted his hips a bit to get comfortable. He could feel curious hands roam his body, starting with his freshly cut hair down to the flexing muscles of his biceps. It was exploratory, hesitant in the way Yuuri managed to be, but commanding with the undercurrent of pride he had despite his anxieties that weighed heavy on his mind.

                As lovers, they were endlessly learning about each other’s bodies, the way they bent and swayed in the tides of pleasure, and what set off bursts of hot static through their veins. It was a new experience every time they met each other under shared sheets, flesh against flesh and lips parted and kiss swollen. There were varying levels of debauched they reached, their last round two weeks prior leaving Viktor on the ‘thoroughly’ side of the scale, a hot and heavy session in the mid-afternoon, summer sun high and sweltering in their tiny apartment. Viktor sucked a bruise into Yuuri’s hip, pulled back and wet his lips with the only thought crossing his mind being that he wanted to ruin the other.

                It’s Yuuri who shifted, moving his hands to either side of Viktor’s face to draw them back together. He settled for the distraction, fumbled with the drawer on the nightstand to his left so he could get out the small bottle of lube Yuuri had picked and one foil wrapped condom before tossing them both to the side on the bed. Yuuri kept him grounded, rooted in his place at the headboard with a gentle firmness to his grasp and a slow draw of his lips across Viktor’s. It could have been magic, was under the right circumstances, the way Yuuri kept Viktor so focused on the _feel_ of intimacy.

                The drag of Yuuri’s lips across his own, the way he opened himself up for the other’s self-indulgence. It was _how_ Yuuri rocked his body forward, let their hardening cocks press hot together between their stomachs and ride out the waves of friction he could give them. It was the fire under his flesh when he moved his lips from Yuuri’s, let them drag along the line of his jaw and down the curve of his neck. He could mark him like this, dark bruises in the shape of a warning along Yuuri’s clavicle. Not that Viktor didn’t trust Yuuri, he _always_ trusted his sweetest love, but the budding satisfaction that swelled in his gut burst with pride anytime someone else could see how well Viktor Nikiforov pleased his lover.

                _No one_ could give this to him.

                Yuuri breathes out a sigh as Viktor mouths at his chest, lets his hands hold strong on the Russian’s biceps to keep himself anchored. His heart hammered underneath the surface of his skin, shook against the cages inside his chest and begged for a release only Viktor could give him. It was a bone deep satisfaction, watching Yuuri unravel beneath his mouth, feel Yuuri shift in his lap to thrust against his abdomen again for friction because he was cruel in the way he kept his hands at his lover’s pelvis. Viktor found an undercurrent of pleasure from teasing, pulling at the strings of Yuuri’s iron will with a stubborn attitude and damnable mouth.

                “ _Viktor_ I swear to go-”

                “Mm, Yuuri, talking about another man while we have sex? I’m _wounded_. Between this and the shirt, I don’t know how I’ll ever recover.” He’s long since abandoned the bruise on Yuuri’s right pectoral, now opting to rest his chin square in the middle of his boyfriend’s chest to glance a wry look upwards. He’s met with an eye roll, more telling than Yuuri’s tone than anything that he’s begrudgingly used to Viktor’s antics at this point and is willing to let him have this platform.

                “You spent your own money on the shirt, I wasn’t responsible for you after that.” And he _wasn’t,_ they both knew that. Viktor knew it the moment he brought his wallet out, but this was their vacation, their time to enjoy the summer sun and white sands of Miami Beach in gaudy fashion and layers of sunscreen. It was the whole aesthetic behind their trip, the typical tourist couple who bought what was sold to them and spent most of their time in Florida lost than engaging in activities. It wasn’t different now that they were nude, a soft shade of magenta highlighting their features as they kept each other’s gaze. The nature of them would never change, regardless of where they were.

                “I know, but here I am trying to make you feel good to apologize for my insolence and you’re going to get impatient? I’m doing my best, Lyubov.”

                “Would a blowjob make you feel better? I don’t know.”

                Viktor pauses, pulls his head back away from its spot on Yuuri’s chest, and stares idly at the space between them where Yuuri said he had _wanted_ to be. Wanted Viktor to open him slowly, distract him with his lips and hands as he was prepped, took his leaking cock in hand and pumped him with that lazy level of affection he always did when he fingered Yuuri. That’s what he _wanted_ , but now he offered something else, something more, and Viktor wouldn’t ever deny a claim that he was a greedy man.

                So instead of a reply he leans forward, brushes his lips across the skin just above Yuuri’s navel and breathes hot against the surface. He feels Yuuri shift, fidgeting at the contact but not willing yet to pull back, and Viktor takes the opportunity to inhale everything that he could muster before he blew a perfect, loud raspberry right onto Yuuri’s stomach.

                “Viktor _no_ , you’re-” he pauses, barking out a laugh and trying to push off his lover who just holds him tighter and peppers him with more tender affectionate kisses, “-you’re _horrible_ , oh my god. Stop!” Yuuri’s laughter was always light, happy waves of enthusiasm bubbling past his lips as he shoved again once more, this time Viktor relenting in his assault to Yuuri’s abdomen long enough for his boyfriend to push his legs apart and lay on his stomach between them.

                “Absolutely terrible,” Yuuri reprimands, a loving smile on his lips telling Viktor he’s appreciative of his antics. He always was, never had the heart to get mad when Viktor broke character in the bedroom and had said he never could find the will to ignore him. Sex was uniquely them because of those moments of silly banter, and the way they looked into each other’s eyes as if they hung the very stars themselves. It was everything – the way they touched, the gentle movements of their lips as they roamed the other’s body, the way they breathed praises and thanks when it felt _so right_.

                Before Yuuri takes him in hand he manages to slip out a snide remark, commenting that Yuuri ‘loved him for it anyway’ and he received a lick to the underside of his shaft in response. Viktor could sense the shift in the atmosphere, had seen it in the way Yuuri looked up at him through thick, dark lashes with a smirk on his lips. There was always something worth commenting about Yuuri’s sex appeal, though mostly Viktor found himself wondering about the raw power his boyfriend didn’t know he possessed, especially when he was on his stomach between Viktor’s legs.

                It was the natural, erotic power Yuuri possessed that had him in command of the bedroom, not Viktor.

                Yuuri is careful in his observation of Viktor’s erection, eyes slowly dragging over the curves and bumps it had. He’d done this before, carefully mapped out the way Viktor’s cock felt inside his mouth, was overly familiar with the heavy weight of the other’s arousal on his tongue as he took him in all the way. It was unfair, really, the way Yuuri could take him apart. Viktor didn’t think he was put on this Earth to resist the draw his boyfriend had, and he wasn’t one to fight the look Yuuri gave him right before he brought Viktor to his lips.

                At that moment it wasn’t any different; the same body language rested on Yuuri’s features as he kissed up along the side of Viktor’s cock. It was a slow movement, meant to tease like he wanted and it was effective in ways he never could admit to. Yuuri always had this way of drawing Viktor’s arousal out with a slow precision, and he reached his free hand up to push Viktor’s torso enough that the other took the hint to relax and let him take the lead for the moment.

                Viktor obliges the unspoken wish asked of him, props himself up only on his elbows as Yuuri shifts to take Viktor’s cock into his other hand while reaching out to entwine their fingers. A romantic gesture, simple in its nature but something that made Viktor’s heart sing as Yuuri took his head into his mouth and give a hard suck. Viktor was longer than Yuuri, though he lacked girth where Yuuri didn’t and was circumcised where Yuuri was uncut. The stretch Yuuri gave him whenever he drove home Viktor’s pleasure was incredible, always more than he’d ever gotten and the best by default since it was Yuuri taking charge. Viktor was able to reach new depths inside Yuuri, was curved perfectly to hit the other’s prostate with a natural ease that couldn’t be matched.

                He had commented one night that it was because they were made for each other, and Yuuri never refuted it.

                Yuuri’s gentle with his attention, pressing kisses along the sides of Viktor’s shaft and sucking on the head with slow, measured pumps of his hand. It wasn’t anything rushed, he wasn’t trying to get Viktor off and had no intention of drawing this out. It was an apology by any other name, but it was meant to make his boyfriend feel good, and Viktor hated how traitorous his thighs were as they trembled when Yuuri _finally_ took him in his mouth and slowly bottomed out.

                They sat there for a moment, connected and panting, Viktor’s mind finally hazed over with an undeniable lust and he could see the fire in Yuuri’s eyes when he looked down between his legs. Yuuri; beautiful, enthralling, incomparable Yuuri, the love of his life laid flat out on his stomach, one hand wrapped around the base of his cock and his mouth wrapped around the head as he loses himself in the movements.

                A low breath pushes past Viktor’s resolve, and his free hand tangles itself in raven tresses as Yuuri sucks _hard_ and takes him in his mouth again in one dive. His tongue brushes against the sides of Viktor’s length, coming to tease his head as Yuuri pulls off enough to make room for the action. He’s the worst about teasing, not even holding eye contact anymore and instead just _feeling_ the way Viktor slots into his mouth like he was always meant to be there.

                Viktor wanted to hate it. He did, truly, but couldn’t bring himself to with the way Yuuri matched his bobbing and the slight jerking of his hand. It was sensory overload, two levels of pleasure building between his legs and he could feel the very edges of his peak rising before they ever got beyond this. Yuuri lifts off with a pop, teases the slit on his head once more before taking Viktor in one final time, a harsh suck popping when he pulls back and sits on his haunches.

                “Do you feel better now?” Yuuri had started to wipe the spit from his mouth with the back of his right hand when Viktor chuckled and sat up some.

                “Yeah, I feel like a new man thanks to your expert level skills there. Come here, Lyubov, I can’t ignore your request.” He shifted his position enough that Yuuri could move into his lap, let him settle on Viktor’s thighs with his forearms thrown over the other’s shoulders so he could get comfortable. They don’t move, not for a moment at least, just kept each other’s gaze and let their fingers idly swipe over whatever parts of bare skin they could reach. Viktor left one hand resting on Yuuri’s hip, the other one grabbed at the bottle of lube to his right and popped the cap open. Yuuri pressed himself closer, arched his back enough to give Viktor a good angle and he rested his head against his lover’s shoulder.

                The levels of intimacy only climbed, and it was incredibly distracting having Yuuri settle himself in Viktor’s lap like that and _not_ stare. Viktor shifted himself slightly, enough to coat his left middle finger with lube before pressing his fingers between Yuuri’s cheeks. An unmistakably shaky breath tickled the hairs on the nape of his neck, and he used his free hand to keep Yuuri relaxed as he stopped circling his rim and pressed inside.

                It was always a slow stretch, the first finger, and Yuuri’s thighs trembled a bit with the intrusion but he held tight to Viktor, had his face pressed into the crook of the other’s neck and let himself be opened up. Fingering, for either of them, was always the most emotional part of sex. It was a slow act, demanding of patience and appreciation that couldn’t be matched with a casual affair. There was always the preference between them both to take each other apart, work the other open, work them into a submissive and wanting state. It was always the same, but Viktor was soft on the way Yuuri curled his fingers into the flesh of his shoulders, lived to hear the quiet moans his boyfriend let out as Viktor scissored him slowly.

                “I can handle another,” Yuuri comments, hips rolling back now to meet each thrust of Viktor’s finger before he slowly works the second in. There’s a shift in Yuuri’s posture, small enough Viktor wouldn’t have caught it had he not been looking for it, but he could _see_ the desperation in the way he angled his hips differently. As a couple, they were fairly active sexually, knew the timing and the pacing of prep work to make sure they were comfortable. It was new to see Yuuri keen like this, breath hot against Viktor’s neck, body rocking back to meet each thrust of the other’s slender fingers. As always, Yuuri had wants, told them to Viktor with his body and rarely ever with words. But when Yuuri pulls back, takes Viktor’s face in his hands and forces eye contact, the other can’t say he _expected_ what he heard next.

                “Please, _please_. I’m ready, I can take it.”

                He couldn’t, Viktor knew that, but he slid a third finger in, moved his free hand from Yuuri’s hip to his leaking cock and pulled at him with slow, gentle jerks and a curve of his wrist. It worked, at least long enough to have Yuuri moan and fall back against Viktor’s shoulder, and he took the opportunity to work his fingers inside him faster to sate the growing impatience between them.

                “I’m not going to hurt you, zolotse. You’re almost there, just hang on for me, okay? I’ll take care of you, I promise.” It was an unspoken assumption that Viktor always would, his number one priority and turn on coming out to be making Yuuri feel good. He was good at it, damn near an expert in most things come Yuuri Katsuki, but he still had things to learn, and if anything now was a strong indicator of just _how_ much that was.

                Yuuri took the opportunity to blindly grab for the foil packet, using his teeth to rip it open because his hands were trembling too much to hold it steady. Viktor angles his hips for Yuuri, watches with heavy eyes as his boyfriend, with shaking hands, puts the condom on him and lubes him up as he finished stretching. They were always so in synch, perfectly timed in the movements of their bodies and natural rhythms they went through in the day. It wasn’t any surprise that Yuuri was ready to pull away just as Viktor was finishing up.

                He extracted his fingers, took care to gently lube up Yuuri’s entrance just a bit more for added comfort before he’s pushed down with the flat of Yuuri’s palm and they’re both shifting to get comfortable again. Viktor finds that he likes this view, boyfriend hovering over him, his cock in Yuuri’s hand and ass perched in wait as he looked at Viktor to give the go ahead. No matter how impatient he became in the buildup, nothing would ever make Yuuri rush so much into sex that he didn’t ask for final consent. So Viktor pulls their faces together, presses three kisses to Yuuri’s cheek, forehead, and nose before leaving one final, lingering kiss to his lips. Yuuri takes initiative, shifts his legs enough that he can move comfortably and he guided Viktor inside.

                Nails scrape against his chest lightly, Yuuri forcing himself to breathe and relax as he slowly takes Viktor in. He doesn’t move, always respects the pace that Yuuri sets when they’re in this position, and instead keeps his lips moving with Yuuri’s in the languid, comforting way they always did when Viktor first entered him. It’s tight, but never unbearably slow, not enough to show Yuuri is too worked up for sex, just the perfect amount of resistance that makes both of their breaths quake. It was hard for him not to lose himself in the feeling of Yuuri, let his instincts take over and drive into him like he wanted.

                Yuuri broke from their kiss first, used his shaking hands to cup Viktor’s face and return the kiss to his forehead in kind as he bottomed out. He always needed a minute to adjust, just enough time to settle and let his body reacquaint itself with the intrusion of his lover before he could pick himself up again. Viktor would give him forever, wait for an eternity if that’s what he needed; he’d make love to him, slow and sensual, lit by the flames of candles in their bedroom or pound into him in the hungry way Yuuri had begged for when they took a trip to New York. Viktor was at his mercy, always ready, always desperate to please the other man.

                “Are you okay? Too much?” Viktor’s voice rings with caution, ever worried and ever curious about the physical and mental state of Yuuri at the start.

                “No, I’m fine, just needed a second. Thank you.”

                His point is emphasized as he pulls back up, only half way this time, before slowly rocking back down again. It has Viktor’s breath shaking, head falling back into the mattress as Yuuri makes a slow pace to start them out. It was that pull with every roll of Yuuri’s hips, the sweet heat that welcomed him back as he was pulled in again. Yuuri had occupied his hands with Viktor’s, all coupled and resting at his chest idly as they rocked together.

                There wasn’t any rush, no need to finish sooner rather than later. It was intimate, dark and cool in their room, the only noises occupying the space was that of the air conditioner and their soft panting and occasional moans. The bed didn’t creak, there was no slapping of skin against skin, just quiet puffs of air and the near silent whisper of each other’s names as Yuuri gradually picked up the pace. He never got to the point that he bounced, Viktor felt Yuuri didn’t see the need to do so for the mood they had settled on, but he moved and rolled his hips with a guided precision he had perfected over the months.

                Yuuri was dangerous for Viktor’s health, but like all bad habits, it was hard to find a good reason to quit when it gave him such a deep seated satisfaction like this. He couldn’t turn away, ignore the radiating beauty that was Yuuri Katsuki, rocking and bouncing in Viktor’s lap. They _fit_ together, bodies made to fill the empty crevices they had with pleasure and love. He was the picture of elegance, the blues from outside accenting his abdominal muscles, and the pinks highlighted the hair he had pushed out of his face not two minutes earlier. There was never going to be someone like this again, not in Viktor’s life or on this Earth. Yuuri’s beauty was timeless, something immortal and captured in the subtle ways his body moved and the marks he made on Viktor’s heart.

                “God, you’re absolutely –ah- breathtaking,” he whispered, entwined hands meeting his lips for a soft kiss and it was subtle enough he almost missed it when Yuuri trembled and picked up the pace. “You are, you really are. You are just everything to me, my Yuuri.” There’s a slight shift, enough that Yuuri takes his hands from Viktor’s and braces himself on the other man’s chest, and with the increased speed of Yuuri’s thrusts Viktor finds himself bracing Yuuri on his lap by the hips regardless.

“I’m – _fuck_ – I’m so close, Vitya. Please, _please_.” He’s begging, which is new. It wasn’t unwelcome, Viktor mused as he took Yuuri’s leaking cock in hand to pump him in time with their combined movements. Yuuri was desperate, rocking faster while he threw his head back as he angled Viktor’s cock to hit him where he finds the stars behind his eyes. Viktor kept himself steady, eyes only focused on the twisted, pleasure filled features Yuuri’s face wore as he kept driving them both to a peak.

Yuuri spilled onto Viktor’s stomach, one hand braced him with his boyfriend’s chest, the other tangled up in his own hair as he rode out his orgasm. Viktor takes the initiative for his own, hands steady on Yuuri’s hips as he thrusts up into Yuuri for a minute longer before he found his hips stuttering and breath failing him while he reached completion. Post-orgasm bliss had them riding high on the throes of love and sex, Viktor pulling out after two minutes to pull the condom off and throw it away so he can grab a wetted towel from the bathroom to clean them off with.

He can’t help but smile seeing Yuuri on his side of the bed, blissed out and eyes shut as he takes a moment of reprieve to rest his tired muscles. Viktor always handles the aftercare, wiping off his stomach and softened cock before cleaning between Yuuri’s legs for safe measure. They could always shower in the morning, make a bigger mess between private laughter and taunting touches, but not at that moment. Everything was perfect; the atmosphere, the mood, and Viktor never was one to deny himself being an opportunist where Yuuri was involved.

So he bent down, pressed a kiss against the nape of his lover’s neck, slipped underneath the blankets and sheets and found home again in the arms of a man who loved him at his best and worst. Yuuri was his happy end, even if Viktor still felt like the book of his life was only at the prologue now that they found each other. Forever, always, Yuuri would be worth it.

“I love you,” he sighed, lips buried into Yuuri’s hair in a gesture of quiet comfort between them.

“I love you too,” Yuuri responded in kind, right hand left to hover over Viktor’s heart.

Viktor tells Chris when he returned that love was Yuuri Katsuki; Chris doesn’t argue otherwise.

**Author's Note:**

> Honestly this whole thing was because [Iru](https://twitter.com/iruutciv) drew a [piece](https://twitter.com/iruutciv/status/905980481036062720) and I found myself excessively drawn to the look of the work. It had a very Miami Motel Lovemaking vibe to me, and I wanted to indulge that theme for this piece. It's shameless PWP, I can't even try to deny that here. And the best excuse I had to send them to Miami was that they were in college. Viktor's a linguistic's major (shocker) and Yuuri's studying business. 
> 
> Just a few notes on this one:
> 
> 1.) Great Lakes coffee is a real location! Take a look [here](https://www.instagram.com/greatlakescoffee/).  
> 2.) The Vagabond is ALSO a real location even if I probably made up the neon Miami lights shining through the windows. [Here's](http://www.thevagabondhotel.com/) their website, and the Catalina King is available to be viewed!  
> 3.) Yuuri specifically calls Viktor out for wearing [this](http://www.peacocks.co.uk/mens-sslv-flamingo-print-shir-light-blue.html) shirt.  
> 4.) There is a diner two blocks away from the hotel! And Miami Beach is ALSO super close.  
> 5.) There's no real "Miami Strip" but there is a street along the beach with motels, bars, and other shops which is what I referenced in this.
> 
> As always this isn't beta'd, so any and all mistakes are my own. I apologize if this sucks, smut still is NOT my strength but I'm practicing to keep my writing mojo going even when my muse is gone. I'm also super sorry if you think it feels rushed or ends poorly, I understand.
> 
> You can follow me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/Megalohdon) and [Tumblr](http://megalohdon.tumblr.com).


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